Saturday, October 11, 2008
What you do when you hurt a plant that you think might be pregnant with alien spawn?
Panic! Gaa! So when you're moving plants to windex off the glass shelves, and though some course of seriously terrible events, the plant comes crashing down on you, sending dirt into your eyes, bra, floor, and just baked muffins, AND after screaming and putting it back on the shelf, you realize that a giant branch broke off and that that branch was the one with these huge blossom/buds on it that you've been watching and anticipating for like a month now - you get kind of panic-y! Like maybe the plant will inflict some kind of revenge for killing it's unborn babies. I mean really - look at this big bubble of an unopened blossom! Isn't that the craziest thing you've ever seen? I don't even know what this plant is - because I got it at the North Dayton Garden center (aforementioned favorite nursery ever) which always has the weirdest stuff I've ever seen. It's some kind of cactus, except that it's not at all prickly, but rather very soft and kind of fuzzy, like what I imagine a deer's antler feels like when it's new and young and covered with that little peach fuzz. This is the mother plant - this is the piece I broke off this morning and promptly repotted (all the while appologizing to the mother) - otherwise known as the pregnant arm of the mother. I vaguely remember the lady at the nursery telling me that it will get some amazing flowers on it, to which I mentally said "yeah right - it happens here in this otherworldly atmosphere, but not in my kitchen at home!" until it did happen - or almost did. Now I'm afraid it'll have to put energy into trying to survive in its new pot instead of birthing whatever's growing in this pod! I broke off another piece months ago and potted it up - it too has a pod growing. In the morning when the light is shining through it, I feel like I'm candling an egg - waiting to see some life moving around in there. but nothing yet. So hopefully this one will open. Oh, and if you don't hear from me for a while, come over and make sure the house isn't filled with some kind of ectoplasm and overtaken with creatures from beyond. And if that does happen, just hope like hell that they didn't make it up the steps - you'll have to climb up on the porch roof, break in the bedroom window, and rescue my stash - you can have it. I won't need it anymore because I'm sure they'll be feeding off my delicious brains or savory organs.